A Modern Southern Belle
by active-imagination-rocks
Summary: I don't know where these random ficlet ideas come from, but have another one. Because Cry is sometimes a gentleman and I wonder what would happen if he met a gentlewoman. Plus that last one could be taken as kind of depressing, so hopefully this one is happier / more strange. Disclaimer: I don't know Cry or anything about his personal life. This is all from my imagination.


"This is all you get?"

The plump, mousy-haired woman behind the cash register frowned with all of a grandmother's disapproval, but her hands tucked his groceries into plastic bags with swift efficiency.

"Yup, that's it."

Cry waited patiently with his wallet open and reined in his amusement. He only got this post-grocery shopping ritual at Tabitha's Food and General Store. Maybe that's why he kept coming.

"You need more protein," she admonished, her vowels turned strange with her combined New York and Jewish accent. "Good for muscles. Not so skinny."

"That's okay. I don't need muscles for my kind of work," he answered with a polite smile.

She huffed and, with a quick flick of the wrist he probably wasn't supposed to see, snuck a small paper bag into one of the sacks.

"Well, next week we get fresh beef. Give you spare meat for discount."

Cry dragged the collection of grocery bags toward him, grabbing the slightly oily paper bag and feeling his smile widen.

"I'll have to come back for that."

He hooked his arms through the bags' arm-holes and moved towards the blinding sunlight streaming through the grated, glass door.

"Careful not to drop eggs!" the woman

"Thanks," he called back, biting into the free kolache she had probably baked this morning. With a shove of his arm, the glass door squeaked open and the blinding summer sun hit him eyes first.

Just as he stepped through, a low giggle made him pause. Two young ladies ambled towards him, their arms crossed and their pace sedate. Their heads were together and they talked quietly, looking more like they were on a Sunday stroll than they were out on an errand. At first, Cry stared at the pair, wondering why two modern southern belles would want to get groceries at a dingy, street corner store in the middle of a bad neighborhood. Before they could notice, he shook himself mentally and quickly pivoted around the door, pulling it and himself out of the way.

The two teenagers glance up at the movement, their momentary enchantment broken in favor of unlinking arms and filing through the small door. Cry blinked, wondering if the impression of grace and stateliness was a trick of the bright afternoon light. One stepped forward, acknowledging him with a nod, while the other followed with her eyes down and murmured a demure, "Thank you."

Still a little star struck and wondering at the loss of beauty, Cry responded automatically, "Anything for the young lady."

He flinched.

_What kind of line was that?! I wasn't even trying to hit on them! And now I sound like a creeper, great._

The girl in front who stood level with him (and was in hitting range if she decided to take offense) seemed to agree with him. Her pinched eyebrows and the way she hiked up her purse spoke volumes.

_You're weird, but pointing that out would be talking to you. Glad I'm walking away._

She quickly stepped into the coolness of the store as Cry squirmed at this post holding the door. Expecting the same treatment from the second girl, he almost didn't glance up…until she stopped.

He glanced up out of reflex and froze at the mischievous smile directed his way. Before he could react, she drew her left leg back, bending at both knees. Confused, Cry didn't realize what she was doing until she tipped her head subtly forward.

_She's curtseying. At me. Wait, what?_

Blankly, he watched her gracefully dip, back straight and balance impeccable. That smooth movement definitely wasn't a trick of the light. As she subtly raised her arm to the side, Cry could imagine her soft grey shirt lengthening and multiplying into layers until she gently held up a fan of her ruffled skirts. The smoothness of the gesture suggested she wasn't wearing faded clothes and scuffed sneakers, but a stiff corset underneath flouncy fabric and platinum silk. Her carefully tilted head showed that hair wasn't up in a haphazard ponytail, but pinned up and flowing around her shoulders in soft curls. Her smile, half thankful and half privately amused, completed the picture. She really was a southern belle.

"Kind of you, sir."

Cry blinked as she rose, that effortless grace reminding him once again of rippling fabric settling smoothly with each movement. Her eyes were wide and dark, dancing with humor and innocent mischief…and staring straight at him.

"Oh, uh…th-thanks."

_Idiot._

But her smile went wide, her eyes slitting just a little as her cheeks rounded with it. Without another word she floated inside, the breeze of air conditioning make the tips of her dark hair flutter. As the door swung shut jerkily, Cry heard her friend hiss, "What the heck was that?" He saw the young lady shrug her shoulders through the glass. He couldn't help watching her as she disappeared between the aisles of food, the fake lighting draining the color from her faded jeans, but that unique effortlessness permeating her every gesture.

Cry turned back into the sunlight, just now realizing that the grocery bags were carving lines into his arms.

"Huh."


End file.
